


Papercuts

by boys_in (kaleidosphere)



Series: Lysinette Week 2020 [7]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, F/F, Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Secrets, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26636893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaleidosphere/pseuds/boys_in
Summary: Two girls sitting by the water, one giving up small pieces of her life for the other.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic & Lysithea von Ordelia, Annette Fantine Dominic/Lysithea von Ordelia, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Lysinette Week 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1667251
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Papercuts

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very, very, very, very, _very_ belated entry for [Lysinette Week.](https://twitter.com/lysinetteweek/status/1217928065944367106)  
> I had this mostly written at the time of the actual event, but then the Big Depression™ hit, and I couldn't finish it. Now that I _have_ finished it, this baby is 7k+ words and solely focused on vampirism. Damn. That being said, most of it was written in a haze, so sorry if some of it doesn't make sense, or if several of the character are out of focus. This one is purely self-indulgent and quite different from the other works in the series. 
> 
> The prompts used are "injury" and "supernatural creature AU," and for the life of me I just can't stop writing about vampires. Whoops.

The last week of Wyvern Moon means it's time for the Harvest Festival, Day of Deathly Remembrance, dressing up in costumes and telling ghost stories. It means staying inside while the autumn air turns icy, lighting up candles and snuggling by a fireplace.

But in the Imperial Year 1180, in the Officers Academy at Garreg Mach Monastery, it also means that there are rumors going around about night creatures: those who slip into the shadows after maiming their victims, and leave terror in the hearts of the living.

It means Lysithea has been unable to find a quiet place to study, because even the library is buzzing with hushed whispers and groups of students, terrified yet intrigued. She rolls her eyes and ignores them as best she can—it's how she got through the first wave of Death Knight rumors, after all.

Then it gets to be too much, so she confronts her favorite professor on the matter. "Those 'night creatures' people are talking about...could it be the Death Knight, still? From their descriptions, they see piercing red eyes in the pitch black darkness, and a row of sharp teeth that yearn for their blood. That has to be him, right?"

Byleth stares, then answers, "It's not the Death Knight. If it were, the knights would have been informed to deal with the situation. Or our class, depending on Lady Rhea's orders."

Lysithea remembers going toe-to-toe with the specter knight and beating him with her most advanced magical spells. He is a dangerous foe, however, and she isn't sure she'd best him a second time. Not without getting injured, anyway. "True, but in that case, do you mean to say the night creatures are real?"

"Maybe, maybe not. That is the rumor of the week, is it not?" Byleth lets a tiny hint of exasperation come through—he's undoubtedly been through this conversation multiple times before, probably with Ignatz or Ashe, or the other students bothered by rumors like Lysithea is. "Rest assured, I shall not let any harm come to you or your classmates. I will not let Flayn's kidnapping repeat itself a second time."

Lysithea feels her stomach twist into knots, which is strange because usually the professor has a way of reassuring her, no matter what. She attributes this discomfort to the lack of food she's had that day—choosing to spend hours in her room, studying and learning instead of eating. It's all she can do, when her condition limits her otherwise. "Alright," she says. "I suppose I'll be on my way."

"Okay. Goodbye, Lysithea."

She leaves without saying anything, because it isn't goodbye if no words are said.

/

/

Lysithea is in the infirmary, halfway through a book detailing anatomical references, when Sylvain comes stumbling through the door. "Oh," he mutters. "You're not Manuela."

Normally, Lysithea would retort with something unpleasant, but Sylvain looks worse for wear as she glances up at him. He is known to be unkempt at times (though Lysithea suspects that is another part of his 'act' that he so openly displays to others, especially women), but his hair is a new style of messy, and his clothes are rumpled as if he'd been tracking them under his heels. His eyes are dark, bleary, and unfocused, but blown wide at the realization that the usual physician isn't in her domain.

His hand is pressed against his neck, too, and Lysithea suspects he means to hide evidence of his philandering—until his fingers tremble, and in their slight movement she catches a glimpse of red: blood pooling through the gaps of his fingers and running down his neck to his collarbones.

Lysithea jumps to her feet. "What happened to you? Nevermind that—let me heal you before your injury gets worse."

She reaches out for him, but Sylvain dodges her skillful hands. Instead of backing out into the hallway, however, he stumbles further into the room, nearly tripping over the table and falling onto one of the beds themselves. "Jeez, you're handier than you look!" He means to tease her but his tone is all wrong, and there is a flash of a grimace across his infuriating face, enough to signal at the true pain eating him. "Okay, okay, relax. It isn't a battle wound or anything."

"Wh—" Lysithea burns red. "You filthy scoundrel! And for a moment I—"

"Whoa, it's not quite like that, either. Okay, it was _half_ like that, but the other half—"

" _Sylvain,_ if you're not going to take me seriously, then _I'm_ going to leave." Lysithea picks up her anatomy books in a quick sweep, ignoring any of his protests. "Goodbye."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Sylvain puts his hands up, revealing the bloodstains as a result of keeping his neck wound concealed—causing Lysithea to unintentionally flinch. "Okay, I'll explain myself properly, but you have to _swear_ not to tell anyone."

To this, Lysithea perks up, and pauses emphatically. "Well? Don't keep me waiting."

"This was the work of the night creatures."

While she should not have believed him in any capacity whatsoever, the similarities between his wound and the rumors are too true to go unnoticed. The suspicious hole-shaped marks in his neck, the blood loss, the hysteria—all of it checks out according to Lysithea. Then she remembers the professor, and realizes that for all his perceptiveness, he has failed to see the night creatures walk among them.

Apparently, one of them _got_ to Sylvain, and that has to be the biggest news this month. It is also a new development in the making, because Lysithea is surely the first to know of this, otherwise she would have heard it from the gossips (Hilda, mostly) already.

"Do you believe me?" Sylvain asks in lieu of her silence.

"Of course I believe you." Lysithea sounds less affronted as she says this, because she is. "Your wounds match too closely to the rumors that have been circulating. Just tell me who it is and we can go face the professor together."

"What? No, that's not a good idea."

Her eyes go wide. "And why _not?_ Sylvain, you were _attacked_ just then, and everyone's been saying how—"

"I wasn't... _attacked,_ per se." Sylvain laughs that heady laugh of his, and Lysithea has a horrible realization. "Well, I would have been, but I made a deal, because I was curious, and—"

"Sylvain," Lysithea says pointedly. "Did you... _ask_ them to attack you?"

"It wasn't an attack," he repeats himself. "I mean, it hurt when they first bit down on me, but then afterward felt kind of...good? Nice? It's like that moment right after you wake up, and you're still not fully awake but you're aware of what's going on—"

"In the name of sweets, you have _got_ to be kidding me. You insufferable _flirt!_ Is that _all_ you think about? And here I was, worrying that you were seriously hurt or not, but you have the nerve to joke about flirting and kissing and whatever!"

"I'm not kidding about needing to see Manuela," Sylvain says. He appears slightly apologetic, which is the most Lysithea has ever seen him look. "Blood loss is serious business."

"Blood loss…" Lysithea dares to look at his injury again, nose scrunched all the while. "So, a fellow student... _drank_ your blood?"

He smiles goofily, and she has to resist the urge to light him on fire. "Yeah, I had an eventful night, to say the least. But don't look so surprised—turns out, these 'night' creatures just need a drink of blood here and there. Otherwise it gets nasty, like, Demonic Beast nasty. And it doesn't have to be human blood, but it's better if it is."

"Whoever bit you must be quite the scholar on this matter! It's almost as if the entire monastery _hasn't_ been in disarray of these horrifying rumors." Despite the chide in her tone, Lysithea is secretly glad that one of her theories— _ghosts,_ perish the thought—has been proven wrong. "Who did it, if I can ask?"

"Funny you should ask that," Sylvain says, grinning. "Since you know him way better than I do."

Him? Lysithea knows a few of the boys around the Academy, but unless they're in her House, she doesn't bother talking to them. Ignatz? No, he'd be too shy, even if he _was_ a night creature. Raphael? That _would_ explain why he's always so hungry all the time. Lorenz might be the one, as well, but Lysithea remembers the last time Lorenz and Sylvain spoke, they argued, and how the professor forced them to hold hands for an hour or else have stable duty for the rest of the year. That had been a fun lunch, indeed.

 _Wait,_ she thinks to herself, horrified. _Don't tell me it's—_

"Claude," Sylvain says, as if he can read her mind. Maybe he can. "Uh, but don't make it weird. He's the one giving me lessons in archery, after all."

/

/

The next day, Lysithea corners Claude, and demands that he tell her everything she wants to know.

"That's pretty vague." But like always, he refuses to take her seriously. She imagines a good cast of Miasma or two will wipe that smirk off his face. "I know a _lot_ of things, Lysithea. It'd help to identify which one in particular you—"

"The _Sylvain_ one," she hisses. "I ran into him at the infirmary the other night."

And he didn't say a word after that, simply leading her to his dorm where they can talk in private, instead. She follows his lead, and he quickly (but quietly) closes the door after she steps into his domain. "What do you want to know?" he asks easily, as if they are about to exchange gossip, or their thoughts on the latest lecture. He smiles as though his secret hasn't been already exposed.

She will never understand him, but right now, she does not have to. "Is it just you? Because if the monastery is a mess because of _you,_ I swear to sweets that I—"

"If it was just me, that'd be insane. No, unfortunately, there are many of us. I might be the only one in Golden Deer, though." Claude laughs and begins counting on his fingers. "Petra, Hubert, Ashe, Dedue, Dorothea, Linhardt—"

"Wait a second, back up." Lysithea frowns. " _Linhardt?_ But he gets sick at the mere sight of blood!"

"Right? It's bad luck, I guess. But I'd guess further to say it's a tactic to get suspicious people off of his back. Caspar never minds feeding him, from what I hear."

 _Feeding him._ Lysithea's blood runs cold. "So, the other day, you fed off Sylvain?"

"He was in the hallway and I was planning to ease him up with some games first, but he caught onto me and I took a risk in telling him the truth." Another grin, and Claude feels more like the Wolves they recruited than the Deer he is _supposed_ to be. "He complied."

"Okay. So what does your secret night creature society have to say about the rumors the other students started? And are you ever going to tell Professor Byleth?"

"...Lysithea," Claude says with finality. "The professor is also—"

She gasps. "I _knew_ it! He seemed too tired of the rumors, but I just assumed..."

"To be fair, I wasn't even the one that caused the rumors to begin with. Pretty sure it was Yuri's fault, if we're being honest." He chuckles. "Not that they'd believe me."

"So what do I do now? I'm burdened with knowledge I didn't even realize existed in the first place."

"Keep quiet about it, for one. Lady Rhea is already frightening enough that we don't need to give her a reason to target us specifically." His jovial demeanor lessens significantly, and for the first time, Lysithea feels his authority as the House Leader. "If you can't keep quiet voluntarily, that'll be a shame. Memory erasure is no fun, in my opinion."

 _Memory erasure?_ There are so many questions and even less answers than she anticipated, but knowing Claude, and knowing the other things he has told her, she will have to settle for that. "Fine," Lysithea grumbles. "But don't you _dare_ sneak a bite from me. I can't even begin on how disgusting and unsanitary that practice is."

"I'd explain the mechanics behind it, actually, but that'd go against everything you just asked me to do." Claude shrugs. "Deal. Feel free to leave, unless you have more questions."

"I do," she admits, "but I have to study now. I'll get going, O Great Night Creature." Lysithea rolls her eyes before turning her back on him, ready to return the world and forgetting any of this happened.

Just as she is about to leave, Claude calls after her. "By the way, Lysithea, just to let you know: 'night creatures' is what the rumors call us, but we have an official name. Though it would benefit you to forget it once I've told you."

She does not respond, so Claude takes her silence as a cue to resume speaking.

"The proper term is _vampire."_

/

/

Lysithea finds herself avoiding certain people ever since the revelation about vampires. It is much harder to avoid her House Leader or her House Professor, but Lysithea manages it by being as uninvolved as possible in class (without actually _skipping,_ of course) and missing the additional lectures and group meetings altogether.

Leonie worries after her, and Marianne twistedly thinks it has something to do with _her_. Claude, when he manages to corner Lysithea, rambles on about how he thinks Marianne is a vampire, but she just doesn't know it yet. Lorenz tries to convince Lysithea to hang out with him more often, which annoys her enough, and she never feels comfortable around Raphael and Ignatz, try as they might.

One day, Lysithea is sitting by herself in the dining hall, when she hears a voice above her. "Lysithea? Can I sit with you?"

She glances up to meet the eyes of Annette, and already a wave of relief washes over her. Even though they are in different classes, they find many opportunities to study together, and teach each other more nuanced forms of magic. Recently, they teamed up with Linhardt to animate inanimate objects, as well as master levitation. Their attempts were mostly fruitless, but Lysithea has grown closer to the two of them as a result.

Even if Linhardt is a vampire, he never shows the same behaviors that Lysithea associates with those of his kind. In fact, if he didn't conveniently mention how much he hates blood every now and then, she wouldn't know he was one _at all._

Instead, she knows, and so she thanks the stars that Annette is normal, at the very least. "Of course," Lysithea says, offering the bench across from her. "I see you chose the peach sorbet, too."

Annette smiles, and Lysithea feels her heart at ease. "That's right! The last one, actually. I have to make it up to Ashe later, though—he looked like he really wanted it."

Lysithea wants to say _Stay away from Ashe because he's a vampire,_ but goes against it. She promised Claude that she wouldn't expose their secrets, and she wouldn't want an involuntary memory erasure for breaking said promise. "Right," she mutters. "So, how have your studies been?"

"Great!" Annette smiles. "I mean, I'm sure you're doing even better, so I've been working hard to catch up. The physics lessons for the ballistas and fire orbs tactics are especially tough."

Lysithea nods. She has mastered the subject, of course, but she completely understands the difficulty it presents to others. Trajectory is not an easy thing to quantify. "If you want, I could tutor you in my spare time."

"Is that really okay, though?" Annette frowns, and bites on her spoon of ice cream with extra force. "I know you're extremely busy!"

"It's a learning experience for you as much as it is me," Lysithea reassures. She takes a few spoonfuls before adding on, "As long as you promise to work hard, then it won't feel like a waste of time."

Annette blushes—or Lysithea _thinks_ she does—before nodding at once. "Then yes, I'd greatly appreciate that!"

They shake on it, and once they finish their ice cream, they take their study session back to Lysithea's room, for extra privacy.

In a world filled with books and calculations, Lysithea feels utterly safe.

She can only hope that Annette feels the same way.

/

/

"That's it," Lysithea groans as she drops her pen, ink empty. "With that, this should be sufficient enough studying for tomorrow's physics test."

Annette sighs, and stretches her hands far beyond her head. Usually, the two of them would share Lysithea's desk, but today's study session takes place on her bed, instead. Lysithea notices how close they are to one another, and has to force herself to remain composed at the otherwise flustering fact. "Yeesh, that was rough. My hand is cramping so badly."

"Mine too," Lysithea admits. Not that she has time to worry about arthritic pains if she has few years left of her life to live. But something about Annette's cheerful nature inspires her, and lets her abandon such negative thoughts for the time being. "By the way, did you finish that book I lent you?"

"The magical theories book, or the history of magical and medicinal practices book?" Annette blinks owlishly at her, while picking up her notebooks and placing them back in her bookbag. "Because I finished _both,_ but I was in the middle of rereading the theories."

"If that's the case, then I actually have another volume that might interest you." Lysithea is thankful for the librarian, Tomas, because he always reserves the best books for her. Almost as if he is attuned to her interests, though that might just be because of his previous work in House Ordelia. "Here, let me show you—"

As Lysithea reaches for her book, she does so carelessly, and recoils from shock, rather than pain. Annette, alarmed, cries out: "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Lysithea grumbles. She stares at her hands with a grimace. "I got a papercut."

Annette freezes up and says "Papercut…?" in a voice so tiny, Lysithea almost doesn't hear it. "Uh, that's—"

"I can bandage it up quickly, no big deal. I'm just worried about the books, because I usually return them in pristine condition and—"

"I have to go," Annette insists. She stands up at once, throwing the rest of her things haphazardly into her bag. In fact, Lysithea is sure she accidentally throws one of _her_ things in there, but she hardly has time to protest when Annette calls out, "Thanks for the study! Good luck on the test! See you tomorrow!"

"Annette?" Lysithea blinks as she stands to her feet, confused at the sudden urgency. "Thank you, but the books—"

"I'll return them when I get a chance, I swear!" Her back is turned, and she barrels for the door at top speed—accidentally slamming into the side of it before successfully grabbing the handle. "See ya!"

Annette barely spares a glance in Lysithea's direction, apparently horrified at having to stay in the room a moment longer, but her misstep is just enough time for Lysithea to make a horrid realization of her own.

Annette's eyes are _red._

She bolts out of the room before Lysithea can ask.

/

/

She just has to get away. Lysithea is so kind, smart, and helpful, and Annette cannot ruin that by—

By being herself? She does not know, yet the feeling sinks her, and the warmth coils uncomfortably in her stomach before twisting upward, still.

She feels the knives in her mouth unsheathing themselves.

Panic rises through her, and every person she runs into is the wrong person (Ingrid is human, Sylvain is human, Felix is human and dangerously close to suspecting something is off about her, Caspar—)

" _Mercie,"_ Annette gasps as she practically breaks down her door, stumbling into her room through some miracle, almost as if her feet know where to take her in case of an emergency. "Mercie, help me."

Mercedes, who had been sewing, throws her needle and thread to the side of her bed. She will have to pick it up later, but right now, that is not the most troubling situation. "Annie, what's wrong?"

"I-I'm so—"

"Are you thirsty?" Mercedes' eyes are so kind when another person (a _saner_ person, Annette's unhelpful mind supplies) would be frightened at the possibility. "Annie, you don't have to be afraid. I promised to be there for you in case things like this happened, right? I was wondering when you'd come see me this week. You can't go that long without a drink, can you?"

Her hands are still shaking, but Annette musters a reply: "I can't. Most everyone else is much better at staving off the thirst, but I—" She remembers the last time she went this long without drinking from someone. Thankfully, she had been on the battlefield, so no one thought twice about her bloody clothes, but the enemy mage was… "I just can't. I was with Lysithea, we were studying, and I almost bit her."

Mercedes' gentle smile lessened somewhat as her brows drew together worriedly. "Did you end up biting her?"

"No!" Annette screams, before forcibly covering her mouth to prevent more noise. She is sure that any of the people from before saw her running for her life, so she would be wise to keep her volume down to prevent further suspicion from being cast onto her. "I would never. Lysithea is such a kind friend to me, Mercie. But she got a papercut, and I…I felt woozy..."

"You're very strong for resisting her," she says. "Come here, now. It's okay. I'll help you, so you don't have to despair any longer."

Annette approaches her best friend in the world, hesitant but unable to look away from the pale of her neck, barely exposed by her top collar. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. What are friends for?"

Annette does not answer as she wraps her arms around Mercedes' neck, head bent low into the crook of her warmth, face tickled by the long strands of wavy hair cascading near her cheek. She closes her eyes against the sight, mouth slightly open as the knives within begin to protrude, heartbeat hammering in her chest like an army marching through an open lane—

Then a sharp _hissing_ noise permeates the air, the scent of blood intensifying as crimson color leaks from the sides of Annette's mouth (she still has trouble keeping clean, much to her embarrassment), her own blue eyes darkening and darkening as her entire body reacts to the intake of sweet, sweet _blood._

For a few minutes, they stay that way: Mercedes sitting upright on the bed, Annette standing over her, leaning down to accommodate the space between them, fangs buried in her soft skin. The room itself is also dark as the curtains are drawn, and the candles Mercedes used to light up the space have quickly gone out.

The seconds it takes for the door to open, letting in beams of light from the outside world, are not much at all.

"Annette?" a voice asks. It is unmistakably Lysithea. "Are you okay? I asked around, and Felix said that if you weren't in your room, you'd be with Mercedes, so I hope it's alright that I—"

A sharp gasp pierces the room. With broad daylight pouring in, Lysithea sees the scene clearly for what it is: Mercedes sitting on the bed, breathing slightly heavier than normal, Annette towering over her in a way that is not too unlike a predator standing over its prey. When Annie turns around to glance, there is no mistaking the scarlet hue in her eyes, or the primal rasp in her voice as she tears herself away from Mercie with a shriek—mouth bloodied and hands twitching with the desire for _more._

Lysithea watches horrifically as droplets of blood spill to the floor, staining the blue rug dark with its dreadful existence. She had suspected this to be the truth, but when it reveals itself so plainly to her, it is no less jarring.

She bites back a scream at the same time Annette calls out to her. "Lysithea, wait, I can explain—"

This time, Lysithea is the one who retreats. She turns on her heels and runs for the door, barreling out of the room and into the light.

Annette's heart sinks down into her stomach. Her legs give out. Her knees meet the stained surface of the rug below her, and she barely registers Mercedes coming into view, utterly serene.

"Annie, it's going to be okay."

"Mercie, I-I'm so—"

"You should go after her, and make things right. I would hate for all of this to get out of hand, just because I forgot to lock the door."

"No, it's my fault, I shouldn't have come to you, and I shouldn't have—"

"You mustn't apologize for something out of your control," Mercie gently coos. "Lysithea must care about you if she came all the way here to check up on you, don't you think?"

 _Yeah,_ Annette agrees inwardly, curling up into a ball as much as possible. _She_ does _care._

_So how do I get her to stay that way?_

/

/

Lysithea has half a mind of telling someone of what she just witnessed—that Annette Fantine Dominic is a _vampire,_ and she was caught drinking from her best friend, Mercedes von Martritz! Of course, as soon as the impulse arrives, Lysithea remembers her conversation with Claude, her run-in with Sylvain, and reminds herself that she is supposed to be keeping their secret. No matter her thoughts on the subject, she owes it to these people to withhold the existence of vampires from the greater minds of society.

But why did Annette hide this from her? Lysithea cannot fathom why. She already suspects her ( _no normal person would run from the sight of a papercut_ , she bitterly thinks) and so she would hardly hold it against her—this monstrous nature that is not her own to dictate. Yet instead of confiding in Lysithea, Annette goes running off to Mercedes, probably because the woman is ten times as forgiving and compassionate than Lysithea can ever hope to be.

But the betrayal does not hurt less for it. Lysithea supposes that running away is not a very mature thing to do, and she would be wise to face Annette sooner, rather than later.

Though every fiber in her being is stubborn enough to deny such sentiments, and so she holds the disappointment close to her chest—as if proof of its very existence.

Day turns into night, and Lysithea curls up in a ball on her bed.

_It wasn't supposed to be this way._

/

/

Night falls yet again on the monastery, and Lysithea realizes that she was a fool for not noticing vampires before.

It is no wonder that certain people get in trouble with Seteth. It is even _less_ of a wonder to know that a majority of Abyssians are vampires, themselves, and that their (not-so) secret underground society is a haven for misfits of all kinds—fanged or not. She imagines that whenever she is out at night for a late snack or a drink of water, the people she expects to see (Hubert, Claude, Yuri, Linhardt, etc.) are never there in actuality. Instead, they must often retreat underground, where their nocturnal natures are freer to explore than in the confines of the Academy dorms.

Knowing this (and knowing that as part of Yuri's fellow Golden Deer, Lysithea herself is allowed to visit Abyss as she pleases), Lysithea disappears down a series of narrow hallways and passages. She navigates the labyrinthine structure, until she finds herself in the center of Abyss, where people run amok and the starry sky is replaced by midnight stone above. It smells distinctly of dust and iron ( _blood,_ she rationalizes), and while some part of her would like to stay and explore the hidden city more, she makes way for her intended destination.

The Shadow Library.

And surely enough, she finds a familiar figure of bright orange and black sitting down at one of the tables, thoroughly digesting a large tome on the topic of forbidden black magic.

Lysithea lets her heart pound out its troubles before she inhales deeply, and walks over to where Annette is sitting. "Can we talk?" she asks quietly.

Despite being considerate with her words, Annette is completely taken off guard, anyway, and almost falls out of her chair from shock. "Lysithea?! What are you doing here, it's so late!"

"The same could be said of you," she counters. "I came here to speak with you."

Annette's face draws itself into a worried angle, and Lysithea remembers how red her eyes were just a few days ago, and how the blue-eyed cutie sitting before her looks nothing like that fiend at the time. Thankfully, she keeps these observations to herself, and Annette replies with, "Uh, sure. I'm just surprised, is all. I didn't think you'd want to speak with me again after what happened."

"Luckily for you, I already knew about vampires before then." For once, she is grateful to that rapscallion of a House Leader for informing her ahead of time. "I wasn't so shocked to find out that you were one, exactly."

"Shhh…" Annette glances around. "Let's talk somewhere else."

Lysithea agrees, and they end up making their way back to the monastery. The tight spaces feel so much tighter with Annette around, but Lysithea controls her embarrassment as they consistently slide against each other, or stumble into one another when a sharp corner appears.

Finally, they emerge on the surface, and Annette leads the way towards the monastery greenhouse. _That isn't very private,_ Lysithea wants to grumble. But instead of going inside the building itself, Annette walks on the ledge outside of it, barely skirting the water and disappearing behind the walls. When Lysithea follows, she finds herself standing on a small (but feasible) ledge with Annette, overlooking the fishing pond in all its private glory.

Unless someone swam out the pond's depths, they would never realize that Lysithea and Annette were there at all.

This kind of situation seems romantic, in a sense, but Lysithea's mind is too preoccupied with worrisome thoughts to entertain the idea. Instead, she leans against the greenhouse wall and sighs. "Like I said, I wasn't angry that you ended up being a vampire."

Annette, shy, turns away, and begins to play with one of her pigtails. "Right. I'm guessing you ran into someone else before me?"

"I cornered Claude," Lysithea explains proudly. "But that's not what's important. I shouldn't have run out like I did. I'm sure I must have caused you trouble, leading you to believe I'd give your secret away."

"That's—"

"Of course, I did no such thing. And I'm sorry for not talking to you before now." Lysithea remembers the way Annette would pass her by in the dining hall or the classrooms, with a forlorn look in her eyes. At the time, Lysithea averted her gaze, but not because she suddenly hated her or wanted nothing to do with her. Rather, she needed time to collect herself, and think about what she wanted to say when she had to say it.

Needless to say, it's time.

"What really made me angry was that you didn't _trust_ me enough to tell me. That you ran out because you needed help, but didn't even consider asking me."

Annette glances back at her. Her eyes are blue but they burn with something _hot_ and _indignant._ "I was _thirsty._ I wasn't about to endanger your life or anything just because I couldn't control myself."

"So instead, you ran to Mercedes, who I assumed knew about your vampirism and was happy to volunteer."

To this, Annette blushes. "Well, yeah! Mercie and I have known each other for years and she's always been there for me. I was hoping that by this time, I wouldn't need to rely on her so much, but I was wrong." Her blush fades as her hands roam the sides of her skirt, pinching nervously at the fabric found there. "I'm always wrong."

"That's not true." Lysithea huffs, and bites back on her tongue before she unintentionally gets angrier than she already is. "Annette, I spent some time thinking, and I'd like to request something of you."

"Of me?" Annette blinks owlishly at Lysithea. For all their time together, she has never been the type of person to ask for help, unless it was from the professor. Even during their study sessions, Lysithea takes on the dominant role of tutor, and Annette is the one making requests of her. So why is it different now? "What is it?"

"Don't go to Mercedes or anyone else for blood."

"Lysithea, I can't just—"

"Come to me instead."

The air hangs heavy above them. Annette feels her chest constrict, but unlike all other times, it does not hurt. It merely constricts, and her heart cries out for relief. Her breath hitches as she scrambles for something coherent to say. "...What?"

"You heard me," Lysithea says in a low voice. "I'll give my blood to you."

"But _why?_ Do you know how painful it is?"

She raises a brow. "Do _you?"_

"...Okay, fair point." Annette has only taken blood from a few people all her life, including Mercedes. Most of them insist the process is harmless, but how painful is it, really? "I just, I want you to understand what you just told me, 'cause I'm still having a hard time believing it."

"What is so hard to believe? I'm being sincere, you know. I wouldn't say this otherwise." Lysithea pouts, and Annette resists the urge to laugh at her.

Instead, she loops a strand of hair behind her ear, and moves closer to her. Slightly. "Aren't you afraid you'll get hurt? Or even _die?_ I couldn't say this before, but I'm terrible at managing my thirst. I've always been sloppy, so I usually hold out until the bitter end."

Lysithea makes a knowing face, her rosy eyes glimmering with understanding. "So back in my room, when I got that papercut—"

"It took every ounce of willpower to prevent biting you. Isn't that just awful, Lysithea? Sometimes I wish I'd been born as a human, but…" Her mouth falls into a frown, and Lysithea wants nothing more than to wipe that devastating look off of Annette's face. "It's no use thinking that way. So, would you still offer your blood to me, if I told you I was dangerous?"

"I would."

"Why?"

Silence settles over them as a few minutes pass. It feels like an eternity, and Annette wants to say something— _anything_ —but Lysithea seems content in her quietude. When she eventually speaks up, Annette jumps at the sudden sound of her voice. "It's because the danger doesn't scare me."

"...I don't understand."

"Of course you wouldn't. Annette, what I'm about to tell you is something I haven't told anyone else—not even my fellow Golden Deer." Lysithea's hands begin to tremble, and she clasps them in a prayer-like motion to prevent their motion. Even so, Annette can see the way despair travels from Lysithea's fingertips to her face—eyes closed against the trepidation. "Understand?"

No hesitation. "I understand."

Lysithea goes into detail about House Ordelia, and the blood experiments that the Empire-planted mages carried out on its children. She talks about the Empire's manipulation of Ordelia territory in an attempt to draw the Alliance's power closer to themselves—payback for the insurrection of the Hrym Territory. Then she tells her about her siblings, and how not a single one of them survived said experiments.

Except for Lysithea. Lysithea, whose dark hair bleached white as a side-effect of the experiments, losing pigment in her body but also losing the chance to live a long, healthy life. _You only have a few years left,_ they said. _Five at the most._ Of course, Lysithea proved them wrong, but the threat of dying young hangs over her more prominently than it does anyone else.

So it would not make much of a difference if she gave some of her cursed blood away, to begin with. "In fact," she says, "I might be the best person for you to drink from."

Annette, sombered by Lysithea's history and hardships, struggles to see the solution as something beneficial. "Why do you say that?"

"I'm already dying," Lysithea states bluntly. "If you drink my blood, I'll be in no less danger than I was before. Who knows, maybe you'll inadvertently cause something to happen within me, and I might live just a bit longer than I should." Lysithea's smile looks sadder than anything Annette has seen, and she chokes back a sob. "And I don't want something as silly as your thirst getting in the way of our friendship."

"Friendship?" Annette certainly considers them friends, but she always doubts whether or not Lysithea does, as well. Her eyes widen slightly at the sudden confirmation. "Oh, of course we're friends! And I'm not so sure that I can just drink from you like I said, but...but if you're so determined, then I can try."

"Please do. Because I miss having someone competent around me. Since that day I've studied on my own but it's not as—" _Nice? Happy? Lovely?_ "productive as it is when I'm with you."

Knowing Lysithea, that must be high praise. Annette couldn't hide her smile if she tried. "Really? Do you really mean that?"

"No, I brought you all the way here to lie to you and deceive you," Lysithea groans. She rolls her eyes for good measure. "Yes, Annette, everything I say is true. So, all that's left is you."

"Me…"

"Yes. Will you accept my offer?"

"For you, Lysithea, I will. But only if you promise me one thing."

She frowns. Having conditions attached to promises is so typical of her House-branded behavior, but that does not necessarily mean that she has to enjoy such things, as well. Still, she complies by asking, "What thing?"

Annette's smile softens by her own admission. "Promise me that you won't give up on life, either."

And Lysithea does not like making promises to anyone but herself. It might be selfish of her, but there is seldom time in her life made available to others, that promising things would be more detrimental than not. Yet, somehow, Annette's existence is all that is needed for her ideology to change—for her _heart_ to give way. Without thinking, she answers: "I promise."

/

/

They spend all night talking. Their topics range from the physics test (which they both passed, of course), to peach ice cream, all the way back to battalion tactics. The moon is full over them, casting beautiful beams of light that reflect on the pond water's surface. They are sitting, now, with their stockings rolled all the way up, as their legs dangle in the cool water, ankles swaying to the weak current. Their boots are placed to the sides of them, and they sit in comfortable silence for a long time.

Finally, Annette speaks up. "Lysithea?"

Lysithea, who leans back on her hands with her head tilted toward the sky, sighs quietly. "Yes, Annette?"

"...Can I drink your blood?"

At once, her relaxed movements go stiff. Lysithea's body has a natural reaction to that statement ( _disgust),_ but her heart reminds her of the promise she made, and the logic behind it all. The rest of the students at this academy have bright futures ahead of them, and adding vampirism to the mix could negatively affect that. Lysithea is different in the sense that she is halfway through Death's Door, herself, so rather than fear an additional consequence, she can be productive and helpful in one fell swoop—without having to compromise the health she already does not have.

Still, the words send shivers up her spine, and she schools her natural discomfort with an expert hand. She sits up straight, and gazes at Annette with a hardened look in her eyes. "You can," she agrees. "If you think you can manage it."

Despite herself, Annette's face burns red and she quickly looks away. "I'm not an _animal,_ you know. I have trouble keeping clean, but I won't destroy you."

"I know you won't."

"Y'know, putting so much blind faith in me like that...I dunno if it's such a good idea."

"We'll just have to see."

There is no preamble left to distract. Annette shifts slightly, but the water ripples around her legs as she moves. Lysithea matches her movements, undoes her collar, and straightens her back without so much as a complaint. Both of their hearts are pounding so loudly that Annette can feel Lysithea's life thrumming as a faint pulse. A mixture of nerves, anxiety, but also anticipation.

And, as Annette reaches forward with a gentle hand, _excitement._ "Stay still," she whispers against Lysithea's skin. Warmth curls up like smoke in the crook of her neck, a tiny shiver crawling down her spine. "I promise I won't hurt you."

"Okay," Lysithea murmurs. "Just...don't take _too_ much, alright? I don't want to be exhausted for tomorrow's lecture."

Annette, as a fellow student and academic, understands the struggle of balancing one's energy with one's tasks. She nods silently, her fangs poised to break skin.

And they do. It stings at first, to the point where Lysithea squeaks at the sudden sharp contact, but once Annette has a hold of her, the rest comes easily. She places one arm on Lysithea's wrist, the other wrapped around her back to pull her in closer. Lysithea is just as small and petite as Annette, so she fits smoothly into her angles—the perfect crescent moon to her sky. Her free hand hangs uselessly at her side, but eventually Lysithea has the wherewithal to move it, and places it on Annette's shoulder for anchorage.

It is quiet, except for the sound of blood being drawn, of a quiet breath exhaling as relief floods her veins in lieu of blood. Her body language changes on a dime—stiffened shoulders and hunched back straightening out and relaxing, crimson eyes closing against a harsh light. Lysithea closes her eyes, too, and wonders what they must look like from afar—two girls sitting by the water, one giving up small pieces of her life for the other.

And her mind must be going hazy from blood loss, because for a second she swears she hears a _kiss_ against her neck. The thought of Annette kissing her in any capacity turns her legs to jelly, and makes her doubly grateful for the fact that they are sitting down now.

Just as Lysithea is about to feel completely lightheaded, Annette pulls back. The most painful part are the fangs, Lysithea decides, as they scrape against her skin once she is done. Lysithea's neck is on fire, and the cool night air almost stings against the wound.

Except there is none. As Lysithea instinctively brings a hand to her neck, she finds that aside from errant blood drops, there is not a single puncture wound or tooth mark, despite the thorough feeding that had taken place just now. She looks at Annette, confused.

"Oh, I hope it's okay that I kissed it better." Her face seems flushed, but Lysithea supposes it is due to her own blood that courses through her, now. "If we kiss wounds, they close up! Did you know that?"

"No," Lysithea mutters. "Though I guess I wouldn't have seen it before—white magic is easier and quicker to use on the battlefield."

Annette coughs awkwardly. "And less _embarrassing_ than kissing wounds better, that's for sure."

"Sure. See, it wasn't so bad." Despite saying that, Lysithea feels an edge of fatigue coming on, and is unable to suppress a tiny yawn. "Okay, I _am_ rather tired now. Shall we call it a night?"

"That sounds good," Annette agrees. She helps Lysithea to stand, and up close, Lysithea sees that Annette is no worse for wear. In fact, she looks _energetic,_ and so she imagines it will be difficult for her to sleep after that. "Thank you, Lysithea. I mean it."

"You're welcome. You know, there are a few things from yesterday's lecture that I've been meaning to go over…"

Annette beams. "Then, I'd be happy to help you study in the morning! First thing before class, okay?"

Lysithea smiles. "Okay!"

They head back to the dorms, surprised to find the dark sky starting to brighten with a new dawn. Somewhere along the way, Lysithea finds herself stumbling half-asleep, and when Annette offers to hold her hand, she does not refuse. She simply holds onto her, squeezing ever so gently.

It's warm.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Any kudos, comments, etc. are appreciated, and this goes for any of my works at all! Have a great day!
> 
> P.S. I dropped a _crumb_ of Claudevain because I'm too much of a weenie to dedicate a full fic to them...maybe next time! (:


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